Pie
by Hiza Montmorency
Summary: Merlin is not a housewife, maid, or even a very good tailor, but of all things, he's certainly not a cook. And he's definitely /not/ in denial.


**I don't even know where this came from. **

**I don't own Merlin.**

/

Merlin is not a housewife. He is not a maid. He is not Arthur's housekeeper (per se, because keeping Arthur's house would mean cleaning _all_ of Camelot, not just the bedroom). He is not an especially good tailor. But he's _really_ not a cook.

And Merlin is definitely not in denial about this fact.

/

A spoon firmly came down and whacked the man on the back of his hand. Merlin glared at his friend as Gwaine shook his hand, wincing. "_No_. You can't have it. They aren't anywhere near done yet."

Gwaine let out his most impressive pout, and was rewarded with a slice of apple when Merlin rolled his eyes and gave in. Gobbling the apple down, he smiled cheerily at his friend and then hurried out of the kitchen before the man could decide that he should be conscripted into doing something akin to actual kitchen work- Or, more terrifyingly, one of the cooks could conscript him to knead bread again. His arms had ached for weeks, and when he'd complained about it to Arthur (not one of his brightest moments, he had to admit) the lot of them had been sent to muscle up by kneading. Pure torture, that.

Bursting out into the sunshine, he bounded across the lawns to where, on this especially warm day, Leon and Percival were lounging tiredly on the grass. Elyan, used to the heat of a forge, was still pounding away at some poor underling-knight who'd had the misfortune of being paired with him to spar. He was showing no signs of stopping too. Flopping down beside the massive bulk that was Percival's torso, Gwaine beamed at his two friends, who looked at him with mild concern and amusement.

"I," he said proudly, "Have just found something _extremely_ wonderful."

"Do tell," Percival rumbled, causing a small earthquake in the localized area and nearly causing Elyan's unfortunate sparring partner to fall. Elyan promptly pounced. The underling squeaked and tried to flee, only to be neatly tripped and disarmed.

The others ignored the side drama. Gwaine smirked, leaning in conspiratorially. The other two rolled their eyes and leaned in as well with a look of amused long suffering. When Gwaine was in such a mood it was safest to humor him.

"_Pie_."

The two froze, and looked at each other, growing excitement in their eyes. Gwaine rocked back on his heels, grinning cheekily.

Leon came to his senses first. "Merlin's baking?" he demanded greedily, and Percival pushed himself upright to stare intently at the food-hungry knight.

"Oh yes indeed. And not only is it pie… it's _apple_."

Leon's stomach rumbled loudly. Elyan, who'd made his way over after sending the underling packing, flopped down on the ground.

"What's going on?"

"Pie," Percival said somberly. Elyan's eyes went wide with greedy hunger.

"Let's go."

/

Merlin dusted his hands off and proudly surveyed the five perfect pies that had been removed from the oven. "Maria," he called, tearing his eyes away to look over at one of the kitchen girls, "Could you make certain these get set out to cool? I've got to run up and make certain my charge hasn't decided to sleep through his next appointment."

Maria grinned pleasantly, waving him out the door. Arthur's love of napping was becoming renowned.

Merlin hurried out, pulling off his apron and tossing it to the side as he rushed out the door. While he shrugged on his jacket, quickly trying to readjust to the cooler air of the castle, he half wondered if he ought to have reminded Maria not to set them where they could be seen. The knights, for some strange reason, had a great love of his pie.

Which was ridiculous, of course, because Merlin was not a cook, or a baker, or a housewife, thank you very much, and really, the idea that he was a good cook was ridiculous…

/

"We have to get those pies."

"Agreed."

"How, exactly, do we propose going about doing this?"

"…Storm the kitchen?"

"_Please_. Do you know how hard a rolling pin is?"

"Of course you would know something about that."

"Oh, shut it. Just because I actually have food to eat now-"

"Could we focus on the pie, please?"

"Right. Well."

Silence.

"Maybe we'll get lucky and one of the girl's put them on the window sills."

"Ooh, looklooklook!"

"…No way."

"_Yes_ way. Hah! I love my life, I love my job, I love Merlin."

"…"

"…"

"Um. Not literally. You know."

"…"

"…"

"Let's try this again, shall we? I love my life, I love my job, I love Merlin's cooking."

"Much better."

"Besides, Arthur would kill you if you ever put a romantically inclined finger on him."

"Like he'd even notice!"

"Men? The pie?"

"Oh. Right."

A heavy hand clapped down hard on the nearest shoulder, and the group turned to see a very annoyed Prince Arthur.

"What were you thinking, not inviting me?" he said sternly.

/

Merlin rushed out the doors, making a bee-line for the training area. He was so late today, and Arthur hadn't exactly been in a great mood when he'd first gotten up. That was why he'd made the pie, after all- to help keep him calm and to let him relax a bit.

He skidded to a halt when he saw that not only was Arthur not at the training grounds, none of the knights were there either. Eyes narrowing suspiciously, he immediately turned around and headed towards the area where the kitchen windows looked out over the castle grounds.

/

Gwaine carefully lifted down the second pie, handing it to Elyan and then plucking the third one away and handing it off to Arthur, who stared at it lustfully. Hopping down off of the ladder, the group of knights and one King all hurried towards the open door set in the wall to sneak away.

"_Hold it right there you theives!"_

The group broke into a full blown run.

/

**Yes. Silly, short, and utterly pointless, but I like it.**

**Let me know what you think, my friends!**


End file.
